Stay
by AlwaysEachOther
Summary: "I'm not the one who tore your stitches out second week in a row." Ever wondered how Fi tore her stitches out twice, or decided to stay in Miami? She and Michael are better at this than they think. A companion/follow up one shot to 3.09 Long Way Back and 3.10 A Dark Road.


_Hey there! I know I've MIA for ages, but life has been super busy. I've been really caught up finishing my studies, so I've had zero time or motivation to write until the last few days. Then, a guest reviewer commented on my last story asking when there would be more, so that was the final kick in the pants I needed haha. Here's another post Long Way Back story, because I just really love that episode, and all of season 3 really. This will be the last one though for that particular storyline though! If you haven't checked out my previous Long Way Back story it's on my page. It's not really connected to this one, but if you would like to read it I would appreciate the feedback, because I do still love that one as well. The next story I post should be the first story of my multi chapter one that I've been working on! It's been in bits and pieces for ages, so I've been trying to nail that down before posting any of it. So anyway, I hope you enjoy this story. Reviews are always appreciated._

/

If there's one thing Fiona had never been any good at, it was doing what she was told. Although, considering she'd had a bullet go through her arm that day, she really should for once.

She'd woken up in Madeline's sunroom for the second time that day, and had instantly noticed Michael's absence before realising, with a wince, that her pain meds had worn off. She was now sitting up on the couch in Madeline's sunroom, a glass of orange juice in her hand as she kept watch over a sleeping Sean. She felt terrible for getting him mixed up in her mess. Madeline and Sam had kept her company for a while after Michael had mysteriously disappeared, but she'd feigned sleep after some time in order to get some peace and quiet. She could barely process the events of the very long day they'd all had. She was happy Michael had been the first person she'd seen after being carried from the water, and later waking up at Madeline's house, but she wondered what must have happened for him to leave so suddenly. When she'd woken again Sam had been beside her, and immediately assured her that everything was okay. His words had tried to soothe her, but he couldn't hide the concern in his eyes. She'd known that something had happened, since things constantly happened in their lives, and he would have promised Michael to make sure that she was ok. _Sam is a good friend to have_ she admitted to herself, only somewhat reluctantly.

Her attention turned towards the sounds in the kitchen, noticing the sound of Michael's voice. Her brow furrowed at his hushed tone that she could barely pick up, unable to hear what he was saying to Sam.

A couple of minutes later he entered the sunroom, a smile taking over his face at the sight of her, although it didn't erase the tension present.

He sat down beside her gently. "Hey Fi," he said softly, partly so as not to disturb Sean. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm okay." She replied softly. "What's happened?"

Michael's eyebrows raised and he sighed at the questions in her eyes. She had always been able to decipher his expressions.

He looked down at the couch, taking the fingers of her uninjured arm into his hand. He locked his bright blue eyes on hers. "Diego's dead."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "How? What happened?"

"He went over the side of his balcony." Michael sighed. "I don't know what really happened, but it doesn't look like an accident."

Fi exhaled sharply. "Okay. What do we do now?"

Michael shook his head vigorously at her. "No, Fi. You won't be doing anything. You're not in any shape to take on the workload for this."

"Michael, I'm not a helpless invalid." She argued with a spout of her usual fiery passion.

"I know you're not, Fi, but you were shot only a matter of hours ago. What you need is to rest." He told her.

She opened her mouth and was ready to continue her protests when he grasped her hand and looked into her eyes so seriously. "Please, Fi. I almost lost you today. I don't want anything else to happen to you."

She was surprised to see the pleading look in his eyes, something she had seen quite rarely before. She was the definition of an independent woman, but it still felt nice to have him care for her so deeply. She raised her good arm up to cup his cheek in her palm. "Okay. I promise I'll behave."

Michael placed his hand over hers, holding it to his face for a moment before bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss to her fingers. "Thank you." He replied softly.

"So what happens now?" She asked, unable to keep a yawn out of her voice.

Michael smiled at her attempts to cover her drowsiness. "We'll stay here until morning, leave early when it's safest. Sam's got a new safe house lined up for us for a few days."

"I certainly hope it's better than the last one." Fiona quipped with a smile. She yawned again, covering her mouth with her hand, and wincing once she realised she'd used her injured arm out of habit.

"Careful." Michael admonished her softly as he brushed his fingers over her bandage gently. "Come on, my old bed will be a lot more comfortable than the couch."

"You off to have your way with me, Michael?" The Irishwoman teased in her familiar tone, barely able to keep her eyes open from weariness.

Michael smiled as he stood up and gently eased her into his grasp, one arm bending under her legs and the other around her back. "Maybe not for a few days." He replied in a tone just as teasing as hers.

"Mmm." She murmured against his chest as he carried her to his old room, drifting back into unconsciousness.

/

Michael awoke early the next morning, immediately noticing Fi's body pressed against his. While they often found themselves in different positions when they slept together, it was only usually after a difficult day that they found themselves wrapped together so tightly. Yesterday's events were definitely to blame for their current position, but he had to admit to himself that he didn't mind it in the slightest.

He stared down at her for a few minutes, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. The fact that she hadn't awoken yet was comforting to him, as it meant her arm wasn't bothering her too much and she was getting the rest she so badly needed.

Realising that he needed to start preparing for the day, he slowly and carefully detangled himself from her grasp before slipping from his room, after a final glance to ensure she was still asleep. Tucking his gun into the waistband of his sweat pants, he made his way into the kitchen.

Madeline was seated at the table, puffing on her usual cigarette with a cup of coffee sitting in front of her.

"Hi, Mom." He said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

Maddie turned to smile at her son. "Morning, Michael. There's coffee on the counter."

Nodding his thanks, he grabbed a cup before joining his mother at the table.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Maddie spoke up. "How's Fi?"

Michael smiled at his mother's genuine concern for Fiona. "She's still asleep. She was fine last night."

"Good." Maddie nodded. "Is she still going home after all this?"

Michael let out a deep sigh, letting his eyes drop to the table below. "No, she can't now." Regret filled his voice, and he raised his gaze to meet his mother's confused expression. "People in Ireland found out I'm not who I said I was, and she'll have earned some new enemies for helping an American spy. It's not safe for her anymore."

"Oh." Maddie took a long drag of her cigarette. "Will she still be leaving though? Maybe go somewhere else?"

Michael's chest clenched slightly at the thought of Fiona leaving. "I'm not sure." He told his mother honestly. "We haven't had a chance to talk about it yet."

"You make sure she knows how you feel, Michael." His mother told him seriously. "Don't just assume she does."

"Mom-" Michael started before being cut off.

"No, Michael, before you give me the usual 'it's complicated' discussion, let me say this. I've told you before, but I'm going to tell you again; she's good for you. You're your best when she's around, and I love her being around obviously, but she shouldn't have to do everything. You need to fight for her sometimes."

 _I fought for her yesterday_. Michael bit back the retort that was forming on his tongue and simply nodded at her.

"Are you right to get your stuff together for a few days?" He asked, standing from the table.

Maddie stood to join him. "I'll be fine, I'll get Sam to help me." She made her way into the kitchen before returning to Michael's side. "Here's some tea for Fiona, I thought she might like some."

Michael smiled at his mom as he took the cup and headed back to his old room.

He stood at the foot of the bed and watched as she slept, curled into a ball under the covers. It was amazing how delicate and fragile she could seem in her unconscious state, when her personality so often defied her appearance in her waking hours. He still couldn't quite comprehend just how close he'd come to losing her.

 _Fiona is not my past._

In the heat of the moment, amongst his fear and desperation, his true feelings had overtaken him. Honesty was something he struggled with, having been trained in the art of deception his entire career. For him, honesty led to vulnerability, which was something he constantly avoided. He had spent his entire life as a spy focused on avoiding emotional attachment, yet all his training had practically disappeared the moment he realised Fiona was gone. He wasn't surprised at what he done to save her, but he was surprised by just how far he was willing to go. Perhaps his mother had a point.

Placing the cup of tea on the bedside table, Michael sat beside her, feeling the mattress sink under his weight. He reached out to gently brush strands of hair away from her face, running his fingertips across the soft skin of her cheek.

"Fi." He murmured, trying to rouse her from her sleep.

She squirmed slightly, her eyes fluttering as she returned to consciousness. She blinked a few times before her focus settled on him.

"Michael?" Her voice was thick with sleep, the Irish accent heavier in her disorientated state.

"Hey." He smiled down at her. "How are you feeling?"

She took a moment to move, cautiously shifting her injured arm and murmuring noncommittally in response.

"We need to start getting ready to leave." He informed her, his voice still low. "Sam's got a place lined up, and he and Mom are helping Sean. I brought some stuff from the loft yesterday, and I've got some of your things."

"Mmkay." Fiona murmured, allowing Michael to help her sit up and help her get ready.

/

The sun began to rise as they made their way to a new safe house, a small apartment within a large high rise. Michael was quietly pleased with Sam's choice, knowing that they would be harder to locate within a building with so many residents. Once Fi and Sean were settled onto couches in the living room, Madeline went outside onto the balcony for a cigarette while Michael and Sam headed into the kitchen to discuss Diego. Fi considered following them, for she didn't like to be left out of the loop, but she had to admit that she was tired from their short journey to the new location.

 _I'll ask Michael later_ , she thought, settling back into the arm of the couch.

Sean glanced over at his little sister. "Fi, did you have a chance to talk to McBride?"

"About what?" she asked curiously. She knew Sean knew Michael's real identity now, but she understood his habit to refer to him as McBride.

"About Ireland." Sean said cautiously.

Fi shook her head at him. She hadn't had a chance to think about what she was going to do now, whether she was still going to return to Ireland or not. She didn't want to leave Michael, and now she wanted to even less than she had before. Plus, now that she thought about it, she had quite a few more enemies back home that she shouldn't go near. That consideration threw a bit of a wrench into her plans.

"Before O'Neil was taken into custody, he managed to get word back home that McBride was an American spy." Sean informed her regrettably. He could see the realisation as it made its way into her eyes.

"So …" Fi started, not sure if she wanted to finish her sentence.

"You can't go home now, Fi." Her brother told her softly. "People aren't too happy about you helping an American. Neither of you can go back."

Her eyes widened as the realisation truly set in. She would never go home again, see her family or the house she grew up in. She felt tears welling in her eyes, an action that angered her even further. She stood up suddenly and stalked from the room with more energy than she'd been able to muster in the last two days. She made her way into the bedroom that she and Michael had claimed for themselves, slamming the door behind her.

Michael and Sam emerged from the kitchen at the loud sound.

"Fi?" Michael called after her. He turned to Sean in confusion. "What happened?"

"I thought she needed to know about not going back to Ireland. She took it as badly as expected."

Michael squeezed his eyes shut in regret, his head falling back slightly. "Okay." He sighed, heading after Fi, towards the bedroom.

He entered to find her pacing the room with her hands on her hips. His heart sank when he noticed the tears tracking down her cheeks. Fiona so rarely cried, and it broke his heart into tiny pieces whenever she did.

"Fi …" He called out to her softly, unsure of what to say.

She turned to face him, anger and sadness visible in her eyes.

"What happened with Strickler, Michael?" She asked, trying to control the waver in her voice.

Michael sat down on the bed and patted the space beside him, but Fi shook her head and continued pacing. He sighed and began to explain it to her.

"Strickler devised a plan to get rid of you, so that I would be free to work with him without distraction or morals." He told her honestly. "He reached out to some contacts, which led him to O'Neil. His plan was to get you away from me by any means necessary."

"How ironic, considering I was leaving Miami anyway." Fiona muttered under her breath, still loud enough for Michael to hear.

"I know." Michael said. "When I realised Strickler was connected I went to confront him. I demanded he tell me where you were and he refused, so I shot him. After we'd found you, Sam and I decided to secure O'Neil's future in prison by setting the bomb we made next to Strickler's body, pinning the murder on him. We thought that would be the end of it, but before O'Neil was captured he managed to call back to Ireland and inform people about you and I. Sean said we should be safe, as long as we don't go back."

Fiona shook her head vigorously as she digested Michael's words. "I didn't even want to go back to Ireland, but I felt like I needed to. And now I never can anyway!" She grabbed the nearest object, which was an alarm clock, and launched it at the wall in frustration. The movement of her action jolted her upper body, and she cried out at the pain that shot up her injured arm. She gripped her bandage with her good hand, pulling it away to discover it was covered with blood.

"Fi!" Michael jumped up from the bed to help, grabbing the first aid kit from his bag. He led her back to the bed, where she pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her head on her knees.

Michael set about fixing her up, feeling her body shake with tears and wince in pain as he removed the broken stitches he had put in less than a day earlier. He wiped the blood away and restitched the wound before covering it in a clean bandage.

He ran a hand up her back. "Fi? I'm finished."

There was no response from her, so he brushed her soft hair away from her face, his heart sinking again at the redness of her eyes and dampness of her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Fi." He ran a hand through her long locks.

"It's not your fault." She sniffled.

"Yes it is. I should never have worked with Strickler, like you said. I should have stopped it before it got to this point."

"There's no way you could have known what he was planning." She assured him.

"No, but I shouldn't have let it get to the point where you felt you had to leave Miami." She could clearly hear the regret in his voice.

"I never really wanted to leave, Michael. But to know I'll never see my mother again, or my brothers, or our farm …"

Michael's chest ached for her, still filled with regret. He moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her back and pressing his lips to her temple.

"I am so sorry, Fi." The sincerity in his voice was clear to her.

She nodded against his chest, resting her head against him. They sat like that, huddled together.

After a few minutes, Fi pulled away and straightened herself up.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to stay here with you, won't I?" She sounded a bit more like her regular self, the teasing tone returning to her voice.

Michael smiled back at her. "I hope so."

"But Michael," she looked at him seriously. "If I'm going to stay I need to know that you actually care about what I have to say. I told you how I felt about Strickler, Sam told you, but you didn't care. You still went ahead and did what you wanted anyway. We're supposed to be a team."

Michael nodded heavily, knowing she was right.

"You're right. I really am sorry, Fi."

She nodded, believing him. She could see the remorse in his eyes, clear as anything. "I know."

He leaned in closer and pressed his lips to her temple. "I promise to try and listen to you more." His mind drifted back to his conversation with his mom earlier that morning. "And I'm glad you're staying."

Fi nodded again. Despite the sadness she was feeling, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little bit glad as well.

/

Days later, Sean was ready to return to Ireland, baring the scars of his latest escapade. He stood on the dock beside the cargo boat that would transport him back home.

"Thank you for all your help." Michael told him as he shook his hand.

"Ain't nothing to thank me for." Sean replied honestly. "Now, you make sure you take care of my sister, alright?"

Michael nodded, knowing he would forever hold himself responsible for the woman beside him.

Fiona stepped forward to hug her brother tightly, being mindful of his wounds and her healing arm. Squeezing her eyes together tightly, she willed herself not to cry. Sure, she wasn't sure when she'd see her brother again, but there was no point getting upset again.

"Say hi to everyone for me." She whispered.

"You know I will." Sean replied. "You take care of yourself, alright? And don't give McBride too hard a time."

She smiled against his chest, before sobering quickly. "I love you Sean."

"Love you too, sis." The Irishman coughed to cover the emotion in his voice.

After a minute, the two siblings released each other and Sean stepped onto the cargo boat with a wave to the two of them still standing on the dock.

Fiona raised her good arm in farewell, watching as her brother left. She felt Michael's body press against her side, bringing his arm around her waist gently.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

She nodded wordlessly, unable to stop a tear from slipping down her cheek. She couldn't help but feel as if an entire chapter of her life was closed off to her now.

The two of them stood on the dock; staring out into the horizon, until Michael lead her back to the charger.

/

Fiona was bored. Scratch that, extremely bored. And bored was not a good thing for Fiona to be.

Sam and Michael were in her living room, going over plans for trying to figure out what had happened to Diego. They still hadn't gotten anywhere with that task, even after a week. Fortunately when Sean had left to return home, Michael had decided it was safe enough for them to do so as well. She'd returned to her own comfortable bed, and had managed to get back all her stuff that had been shipped back home, after her discussion with Michael about staying in Miami. He'd been staying with her since leaving the safe house, and she'd given up on hiding how pleased she was to have him around. The only thing was that he still refused to let her do any serious work helping him with the Diego situation, insisting that she was still recovering, which resulted in a whole load of boredom for the tiny Irishwoman.

Sighing heavily, she sat herself down in the corner of the room, and began unpacking one of the bags filled with her armoury. Since she was staying after all, she'd rather have her condo back to its regular self, sooner rather than later.

She contemplated how to handle lifting one of her larger guns with just one arm. Throwing caution to the wind, she manoeuvred her injured arm so that it would support the bottom of the weapon, and unfolded one leg, attempting to rise up without lowering the gun she was holding. Unable to balance both herself and the weapon with her injured arm tipping her off balance, she stumbled and fell to the ground, dropping the gun in the process. She yelped loudly as she made contact with the floor, her injured arm jarring against the gun that had landed before her.

Michael and Sam's heads whipped up simultaneously as they heard her cry from the next room. Bolting from his chair, Michael made his way to her bedroom.

"Fi!" He skidded to a stop in the doorway, his eyes falling to her figure on the ground. "What were you doing?"

"I was trying to get some things sorted out." She grimaced, clutching at her reinjured arm.

Michael made his way to her, stepping over the fallen guns and lifting her up.

"Oh, Fi." He sighed, noticing spots of red under the stark white bandage. "Not again."

"Well I'm sorry I'm being such an inconvenience, Michael!" She snapped at him.

Michael rolled his eyes and went to retrieve the first aid kit from the kitchen bench.

"She okay?" Sam asked, slight concern noticeable in his voice.

"Yeah, she's alright." Michael sighed, taking the bag with him back to her room. _I swear she's made me lose years off my life in the last two weeks alone,_ he thought to himself.

He made his way back into her room to find her on the bed, reclined against the pillows, a look of discomfort covering her face.

He arranged himself beside her and began to peel the bandage away and remove the broken bits of her stitches. He soon began restitching the wound.

"Ow!" Fiona yelled.

"Hold still. I'm almost done." Michael ordered as he concentrated on the stitches he was making.

She sighed loudly in pain. "You're doing this on purpose." She muttered.

"I'm not the one who torn your stitches out second week in a row." Michael retorted. "Now stop moving, or you're going to do some serious damage."

"I will do some serious damage to you when this is over. I promise you that, Michael Westen." She swore through gritted teeth. "You have the sewing skills of an orangutan!"

He'd certainly been gentler last time, although perhaps this was his own little form of punishment for her ripping them out again.

"There. Now you can kill me if you want to." Michael conceded, putting the medical instruments down.

"Oh, God, I want to." She sighed. She swung her uninjured arm up to connect with his face, but in her weakened state her actions were delayed, and Michael was able to block her quite easily.

"Okay. Yes, you should rest. There you go." He said in a soothing voice, placing her arm back down against her body, continuing to wrap a new bandage around her injured one.

"You're lucky that these sedatives are kicking in …" Fi yawned. "Cause I will kill you."

"I'll be here." Michael smiled slightly. He was so focused on her arm that he didn't notice her arm reaching back out until her fist connected with his jaw. He groaned at the impact, wondering for the millionth time in his life how someone so small could put such strength behind a punch.

Fiona smirked, even with her eyes closed. "Gotcha."

She wasn't that bored anymore.

/

Fi spent the next week and a half lounging around in singlet tops and comfy pyjama bottoms, dividing her time between her condo and the loft, occasionally joining the boys at Carlito's. Whenever she had to go from one location to the other she was usually chauffeured by either Sam or Michael, as the latter kept insisting that she wasn't recovered enough to drive yet. For once, she couldn't be bothered arguing, especially since she didn't own a car anymore. She'd sold her little Saab before her intended departure from Miami, and obviously hadn't secured a new vehicle yet, which meant she had to resort to stealing cars again when she needed one. She had her sights set on a new blue sports car though.

The sound of her front door opening broke her out of her thoughts, and she reached under her pillow to grab her gun, although she knew it was probably just Michael.

"Fi?" The sound of his voice confirmed her suspicions.

She pushed herself off her bed with her good arm and headed towards the kitchen, where Michael was taking items out of grocery bags and putting them away in her cupboards.

She smiled at the sight of him as he made his way around the kitchen with ease, watching from the doorway that she was leaning against. They spent most of their time at the loft, so it always pleased her to see him so comfortable in her place.

Michael looked to see her watching, confused about the look on her face. "What?"

She shook her head with a smile. "Nothing."

"I brought dinner." He gestured to the various containers covering her counters.

She made her way over to his side and rose up to kiss his cheek softly. "Thank you." She smiled.

He smiled back, unable to hide the happiness in his eyes when he looked at her.

The two of them served their dinner onto plates and took a seat at the table, sitting across from each other.

"How have you been feeling today?" Michael asked, since he had spent the day out with Sam, tying up some loose ends from a last job.

Fiona fought the urge to roll her eyes at him, knowing he was still concerned for her. It was edging past the point of irritating, but a tiny part of her was revelling in his concern, as it was so different from how he usually was.

She forced a smile to her face to hide her exasperation from him. "I'm fine, Michael. I'm ready to get back to work now. It's a miracle you and Sam has lasted this long without me." She quipped.

Michael smirked at her comment. "Alright, I'll check your arm later, it should be alright for the stitches to come out now."

"Thank God." She sighed over dramatically, grinning at him.

"You know, most people would be thrilled to spend a few weeks at home, doing nothing." Michael pointed out.

"And when have I ever given you the impression that I am like most people, Michael?" She asked pointedly.

"Never." He sighed heavily, unable to hide the smile on his face.

She smiled back at him before turning serious for a moment, reaching across the table to place her hand over his.

"I know I haven't really said it, but … thank you. For everything."

He gripped her hand tightly with his and met her gaze just as seriously. "You would've done the same for me, Fi."

She nodded. "Yes, I would."

The two of them stayed like that for a moment, before breaking their stare and returning to their own food.

"Let's check your stitches now." Michael suggested when they had finished eating.

Fiona nodded and cleared their plates while he grabbed the first aid kit for what was hopefully the last time for a while.

He unwrapped the white bandage and inspected the stitches, nodding in approval before carefully cutting them out. He ran a finger up her arm, revelling in the feel of her perfect skin. Lowering his head, he pressed a soft kiss to the still slightly reddened area. Fiona smiled, her heart swelling at his tender concern. Maybe she could get used to this side of Michael. It almost made getting shot worth it. _Almost_.

Michael tilted his head back up to look at her. "I'm glad you're okay, Fi." He murmured.

Fiona leaned in to brush her lips over his. No verbal response was needed. He'd been by her side all week, and she knew how glad he was that she'd stayed in Miami. As much as he insisted that they were no good at this, he showed how he was feeling through his actions.

"Want to stay tonight?" She asked, hoping he'd accept as he had been most nights lately. Her heart skipped a beat when he nodded.

"And tomorrow, I'm back to work for real, alright?" She smirked at him.

Michael rolled his eyes, but smiled regardless. "Sure thing, Fi." He relented.

She bounded up from the couch and into her room, beckoning for him to follow. He obeyed, smiling as he made his way out of the living room, thanking the universe silently that she was here and everything was okay, at least for now.


End file.
